Wicked Ways
by Lobo Kendo
Summary: In the aftermath of the war with the Creator, Albel Nox is still struggling with an even greater enemy: Himself.
1. Chapter One: Nightmares or Memories?

**Chapter One**

_Nightmares or Memories?_

**_Author's Note:_ **This chapter is short for a reason, because I want to hear a few positive opinion's about it before I dedicate to it seriously. All Criticism, as long as it doesn't drop into the dreaded "flame zone", is welcome. Let me know how this looks from the start so I can make it excellent later on.

As always, your humble author, Lobo.

--

It was like an exquisite painting, one of unparalleled beauty and craft. The detail of the backdrop was most ubiquitous but even that paled in comparison to the brushstrokes utilized in the expression of horror wracking the portrait's face. The red hues used in the blood, the bruising mimicking the color of a blooming lilac, and the greens that highlighted the clothing; it was a breathtaking sight!

Albel Nox stood triumphant over a beaten and broken warrior, his most hated adversary. He looked down on her as he did all worms that had been crushed beneath his boot before but this time the common frown of disgust and disappointment did not tarnish his war-weathered face. Instead he smiled. Despite his own grave injuries he was truly pleased with that battle and, most especially, its outcome.

"Don't grieve the loss of your life, daughter of Aquios. You put up a valiant fight, one that will be remembered in the analogues of my memory for the rest of my life." He grinned, even more sadistically, smearing a wayward lock of his raven hair away from a dripping laceration on his forehead. "If it makes you feel any better, I have no regrets."

His right arm (the only natural one of the two) hung uselessly at his side, a thick chunk of quivering meat having been sliced out only a few minutes earlier by a pair of lightning-fast daggers. His fabricated left arm, ringed with dozens of nicks and jagged cuts both new and old, held the legendary weapon granted to the kingdom of Airyglyph by the Emissary of Apris - the Crimson Scourge - in a tight iron clench positioned perilously over the heart of his writhing enemy. Even on the eve of death she did not ask for any mercy and stared at his bloodthirsty eyes ever defiant.

When Albel the Wicked's filthy boot pressed down on the abdomen of Nel Zelpher, she gasped gently, the only sound her breathless lungs could manage, and reached up with her pale hands to attempt unsuccessfully to push it off. Her mouth moved but no words came out, though Albel didn't need to hear her voice to know what she was saying.

He nodded and shrugged carelessly. "The world is a cruel and unpredictable place, daughter of Aquios. It is full of strange circumstances and awkward situations." He paused, as if seeking a reply. When none came, he shrugged and continued. "I was never your friend, not even an ally, but always a rival. I allowed you to live as long as I did because of a strange incident that has sense passed us by, so now I can tell you what I really think of your pretentiousness and your badgering faith."

Albel's gore-soaked blade plummeted into Nel's breast, causing a spat of blood to gush from her dry lips and a shallow heave in her chest before the very last of her life essence slipped away. Albel leaned in on the Crimson Scourge, feeling the crunching of her ribs and the solid earth beneath her, and gently kissed her scarlet cheek. "You were a fool, Nel Zelpher, but I certainly valued you as a fellow warrior. Too bad you got in my way."

Albel bolted up from his bed with a shriek and such dizzying speed that the blankets flipped into the air and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. He looked around his dark, sparsely furnished chambers panting and sweating like he had just finished running across the Aire Plains.

"A d-dream...it was...only a dream."

He fell back on his pillow, causing a few feathers to scatter into the air. Not thinking, he lifted up his cold metal hand and scraped the sweat dotting his face, relieved to find no blood but startled when he looked at the dull iron of his artificial arm. Briefly all the men, women, and children he butchered with those claws as Albel the Wicked, captain of the Black Brigade, affected him, as that notion never had done before. Albel let his limp gauntlet clatter down at his side and freely allowed tears of regret to swell up in his eyes.

"Monster," he whispered, and sat awake for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter Two: The Draft

**Chapter Two**

_The Draft_

_--_

A loud knocking at the door diverted Albel Nox's sleep-deprived stare away from a specific knot on a rafter on the ceiling. He glared bloodshot holes into the door until another series of knocking motivated him to sit up, kick his legs over the side of his bed facing away from the entrance, and stumble over to the single window taking up most of the southernmost wall and spread open the dusty white drapes, blinding him with the morning suns vicious rays.

Grumbling not only his restlessness but also the fact that today was the first day of the Dragon Brigade's draft (as well as hundreds of dull-as-dirt interviews), he moved back towards the door as a third series of knocks shook out a cloud of dust from the surrounding timber.

The young man standing on the other side of the door was visibly shaking, clearly recalling each and every horror story ever told to him about Albel the Wicked—how he reveled in bloodshed and suffering, how he ate children and wore the flesh of his victims; this was the man he was waking up in the morning! If it weren't on direct request of the king he would never have even set foot on the steps leading too that wretched place.

"_This is suicide_," he thought miserably. "_This is the absolute worst time of day for anyone! He'll massacre me, hang me from the highest point in the city and throw stones at my rotting corpse!"_

Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as a relaxing whistle, he prepared for one last attempt. He raised his fist up and swung, getting within an inch of the door before it creaked open and revealed a unkempt, noticeably cranky, and snarling Albel who had prepared to insult his belligerent guest until he ran home crying. Instead, he caught a flailing young man in his arms and became more surprised than angry.

The young soldier blinked in confusion as he looked up, saw two scarlet eyes slowly narrowing with rage and planted his palms on Albel's bare chest and pushed off, stiffening like a board when he became vertical and then falling hard on his rear end—the cold cobblestone floor of Castle Airyglyph was unforgiving as the boy winced in pain but suppressed any verbal sound. It would be best too try to preserve what little dignity he had left.

Though Albel had no intention of making it easy on him. "Can I help you, worm?"

The soldier's response was a limp mouth and a quiet squeak.

Albel crooked his eyebrow in curiosity. "You obviously had something important to say if it was so imperative as to wake me. So? Speak up before I cut out your tongue and ring the spit out down your throat."

Again, the boy could only stutter and murmur incoherently. So, with a careless shrug, Albel made an about-face and walked back into his room. He reached under the dusty mattress of his bed and pulled out the ornate blood-red sheath that housed the sacred relic the Crimson Scourge, a sword with legendary power. With the blade in hand, he returned to the door and loomed over the cowering boy. In a swift motion he transferred the sheath to his tarnished bronze claw and drew out the sword with the other. "As you wish."

The boy yelped and jumped too his knees, cupping his hands together as if in prayer and proceeded to plead for his life, a move that made Albel scoff in irritation and roll his eyes, impatiently awaiting for the boy to finish his ranting.

"King Airyglyph requests your presence in his gathering hall! You were supposed to have been there at sunrise for the drafting, Lord Albel! I'm garbage, I'm dirt, I'm less than dirt! Please spare my li-i-i-fe!"

His face stoic and unreadable, Albel lowered the Crimson Scourge to his side letting the point of the blade scrape against the ground. "What is your name, worm?"

"Z-Z-Z--"

"Spit it out!"

"ZEKE, Lord Albel!"

Impatient from his lack of sleep and this indignant child, Albel heaved his chest heavily and decided then and there to attempt remaining calm for the rest of the day lest he drive himself into an early grave and a most dishonorable death. "Are you applying for the draft?"

Zeke, sweating like a suckling pig, nodded slowly and cautiously; weary for any attempt on his life. Not that he'd be able to stop it but maybe his scream would bring help.

Albel smiled, showing his trademark grin of dread. "I'll be watching you especially close, dear Zeke. Now, slither away and be sure to tell the king I'll be in his hall momentarily." Albel turned on his heel and stepped into his chambers. He mule kicked the door shut and left Zeke there in shock and solitude so he could compose himself and finish the task he was given.

Albel plunged the sword back into its scabbard and dropped it carelessly onto his mattress. He approached the eastern half of his room where the latrine and vanity were located and caught sight of himself in the small mirror nailed above a fresh pot of water. He was still smiling and that made him smile even wider.

Somehow he didn't think Albel the Wicked would ever completely go away.

…………

…………

One of the first lessons taught to a member of the Secret Legion was to use your environment to your advantage. Be quick and silent, but occasionally natural noises - such as birds singing, the wind rustling leaves, and so on - offered a bit of leeway when it came to a stealth-required task like the one Nel Zelpher had been charged with. She placed a leather satchel filled to the brim with chunks of coal next to another larger bag and her neatly folded clothing and scabbards, which contained a pair of deadly family heirlooms, the Blades of Ryusen.

She kneeled down at the edge of the riverbank which was located barely a mile from the boarder of Airyglyph and took her shoulder-length red hair in hand and flipped it over her face, dunking her head into the water and sloshing it around for a bit, making sure it was thoroughly drenched. Nel scooped up a lump of coal and began to scrub her cherry locks black; stage one in a daring (possibly suicidal) mission into the Dragon Brigade drafting which was taking place throughout the entirety of the week. Because a watchful eye might spot a black stain on her collar and grow suspicious, Nel stripped down to her sparsest of garments—a simple white wrap around her chest and a equally contemptible pair of lace undergarments—and abstained her modesty for a flawless act. At the moment her biggest fear wasn't being discovered and killed during the draft but being seen in such a compromising position.

After several long and tedious minutes of scrubbing each individual lock of hair until it was midnight black, she caught sight of another problem: the coal was staining her hands and it wouldn't immediately wash out. Thank Apris she brought a pair of gloves along which would have to be worn at all times until the stains lifted enough to be washed away, though that could take several days. Her hair would also eventually rinse back to its natural ruby vibrancy but hopefully she would not have to reapply the coal dye again for at least one additional time all week. Friday would be her rendezvous time back in Aquaria with all the intelligence she had managed to procure.

And despite what was being fed to the citizens of Airyglyph and Aquaria, all hostilities had not completely ceased. King Airyglyph XIII wanted power anew; he craved stronger weapons then his scientists and engineers could offer: He wanted the runological weapon blueprints and was willing to go to some extreme measures to obtain them. But each spy he had sent in had been discovered and consequently took their own lives in order to keep the knowledge of whom they were sent by a secret.

Queen Aquaria XXVII simply knew it had to have been him, however. There had been three unsuccessful attempts, the last occurred one week prior and suddenly everything was quiet. Queen Aquaria thought that was suspicious; the Arzei Bohnleid she knew wouldn't just give up. He must be planning something else, either another more drastic infiltration mission or he was developing a runological weapon of his own. Nel would determine the threat, if there was one at all, and once again snatch victory from Airyglyph's grasp.

After another five dull minutes, Nel picked up her palm-sized mirror and inspected her hair, which was only faintly red in a small area and it probably wouldn't be noticeable at distance.

"Good enough," she whispered and tossed the pockmarked hunk of coal into the rushing stream, then thrust her hands into the water and scrubbed them raw, getting out as much of the black as she could. When the water began to take on a red more vibrant than her hair had been, Nel decided it was time to stop.

Standing up in the same motion she picked up a small wool cloth and wiped dry her cut hands. As Nel dabbed away the water dripping down her face and neck, a crunch in the woods behind her caused a reaction which forfeited the washcloth in her hand for additional covering around her "assets".

Several moments of ragged breathing from her and silence in the forest passed but Nel was still not satisfied she wasn't being watched, but she stooped down and rummaged into her large bag. She removed a sleek black bodysuit, which she hastily slipped into. Over that went several joints of silver armor, including a breastplate and a waste guard that closely resembled a chastity belt. Nel sat down and picked up each individual piece compiling her thigh-high boots etched with blue runological symbols down both calves, snapping them together quickly and thronging tight the buckles. She tied on the scabbards holding her beloved daggers in place and completed the ensemble by wrapping a gray scarf around her neck, which masked the lower portion of her face. Combined with her long black locks hanging limply over her eyes, her face was virtually invisible.

Nel took a deep breath and popped her neck to the left. She took a final look into the forest with her large catlike purple eyes and darted off down the bank, hopping nimbly onto a slick rock in the center of the stream and then to another, then made a seemingly impossible leap over to the distant west shore and darted with incredible grace up the hill and into the Kingdom of Airyglyph.

--

Peering cautiously around his makeshift hiding spot, the bandit dropped two needle branches and stepped out from behind a tree, taking one last glance at the area. Members of the Queen's Secret Legion were notoriously devious and despite having left in a completely opposite direction than the one he stood in now, she could still be watching him. He scurried over to the bank and plunged his hand into the cool water, frightening a large fish in the process. He pulled out a worn lump of coal and rolled it around in his hand for a moment, trying to drag his mind away from the image of that lovely woman's backside to her equally magnetic face. He had seen it somewhere before...

Then it came to him and it brought a cryptic grin to his lips. "Nevelle's daughter. Ah, Panther will be most amused." The bandit chuckled under his breath as he turned away from the stream and retreated back into the shadowed forest.


	3. Chapter Three: Exposure

**Chapter Three**

_Exposure _

**Author's Note: **Who loves ya, baby? I hope it was worth the wait.

Sincerely, Lobo 

--

Albel dragged his tired and mentally defeated body down the long winding hallways of Airyglyph castle, passing by the occasional lone soldier who stiffened like a board when they crossed paths. When he passed by two or more soldiers, whatever conversation they had been discussing seconds prior ceased immediately and they also locked up.

There had been a point in his life, not much younger than he was now, when he relished the publicity. The fear that his name struck into the hearts of all who heard it was his greatest accomplishment. Speaking his name outside of the castle was the equivalent of a swear word and children would get slapped the same for saying it. Those days, when he had no pressing business to attend to, he would simply wander around the city and cause havoc, usually without even raising a hand. Albel the Wicked just passing by your home, your produce stand, you and your buddies, was enough to incite panic.

Not much had changed in that regard, the difference now was that Albel knew that he still had that impact on people but was growing increasingly indifferent towards it. He hadn't left the castle in well over a month now just because of that.

Well, there was that _other_ reason…

"Get out of my mind, you stupid child!" Albel grunted under his breath, slicing his dull iron claws across the partition he had been slinking by, nicking a corner off of a weathered painting of King Airyglyph III before he realized he had shouted aloud and stopped his movement, retracting his arm like a dog had been smacked for hopping up on the dinner table. He sighed and brushed the wayward locks of his blonde highlights away from his eyes, looking up at the ceiling with a groan and exhaustingly wiping his face.

"Stupid child, thinks he can just stroll up into my world and take it over…what made him such a damn hero anyway!"

_"You don't have to be modest, Albel. I'll miss you too. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't hate you."_

"_Maybe I hate you, eh Fayt? After all, you pretty much embody everything I despise about the good guy."_

"_That's fine, you can hate me. But that doesn't mean you still didn't earn a friend throughout all this."_

Albel shook his head to dispel that gushy conversation from his mind and continued on. His mind completely absent, he wondered how much farther it was to the gathering hall. He had been living in Airyglyph castle for neigh ten years now and could navigate its endless cobblestone corridors blindfolded, he just couldn't focus then. Not only was the cause for that forgetfulness a source of personal humiliation for him, but also that boy from another world had been at the forefront of a maelstrom of unwanted memories that had plagued him sense he returned from that dreadful "other world".

Finally, he had the reinforced door of the auditorium in sight, and with a grateful sigh he picked up his pace just enough to stumble forward and collapse against it, his claw digging four narrow grooves into the woodwork as he slid down it helplessly.

Albel's chest was on fire, and though he knew the reason for it deep in the back of his mind he couldn't bring himself to admit it, to expose himself to that weakness. He wasn't that type of person, and he refused to ever become that type of person. He knew what people had been saying about him behind his back, that he was becoming soft and didn't have the moxy to command the Black Brigade any longer. The old Albel Nox would have personally tracked down each individual in question, force them to admit what they had rumored, and then gutted them like a fish.

But the new Albel Nox couldn't bring himself to feel any animosity for these gossipers at all.

Albel again rose his head to the ceiling, but this time his eyes were more intent, as if he were looking to see someone looking back down at him. "You've corrupted me with your kindness, you miserable brat. I hope you're happy."

Albel rose to his feet and glared at the door in front of him; every fiber of his being wanting to back away from these god-awful interviews and combat challenges and just go get some sleep. And the old Albel Nox probably could have gotten away with it not only with the king but with himself as well.

The new Albel Nox, however, gritted his teeth at the obligation he had made and pushed open the door.

The room was massive, larger both in height and width than the courtyard _outside_ of Airyglyph castle. The walls were devoid of the customary tapestries that dotted every other available spot in the castle – exactly twenty-two feet away from the last – but instead had racks of weaponry, training equipment, two regulation-sized battle pits at the two opposite sides of the room, and was always occupied with some grizzled soldier looking to impart his war-honed wisdom upon anyone who asked it.

Albel always thought it was kind of stuffy.

And though he did not like the room itself, this time it was different. Of all the new hopefuls looking to earn or cheat their way into the ranks of the Black, Storm, and Dragon Brigades, few of them turned to look at him when he entered, and of those few none of them had that familiar look of terror on their faces. It was instead replaced with determination, self-confidence (occasionally over-confidence), and a yearning to surpass no matter the cost. It was almost heartwarming, and once again Albel chided himself for even thinking that.

Albel closed the door behind him and looked up to the center of the room, where Arzei Bohnleid XIII, King of Airyglyph, sat in his throne, surrounded by his usual group of four or more tenants and two of this three generals: Valon of the Dragon Brigade and "Hammer" Terry of the Storm Brigade. Both had become quite comfortable with their new positions and were not shy about flaunting their power, especially Hammer, who was already quite famous for his bar brawling.

But Albel had seen more than enough of his fair share of those two idiots already. His attention was more directed towards the young prospect kneeling in front of the king, requesting (or begging) something of him. The king looked more than a little flustered at whatever the request was but Albel didn't need to hear what the boy was saying to have a good idea what it was about. The way his shoulders were squared, the fact that his right hand clenched a dagger and his fingers were twitching around the hilt, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. These were signs of nervousness and popular among rookies, a prelude to battle.

Come to think of it, Albel had thought he saw the boy look at him out of the corner of his eye when he walked in.

And as quickly as that thought crossed his mind the boy darted up, much to the surprise of the king he had been offering fealty to a moment prior, and rushed at Albel with the knife held above his head.

The reaction certainly startled Albel a bit, but even at his worst he was still a better swordsman than anyone else in the kingdom, most certainly a sparsely trained beginner. Perhaps now was the time to prove that he was still the man everyone once so greatly feared.

"_Well, maybe just for today."_

Now that was a humorous thought. That hadn't been his own voice urging him into dirty deeds, but rather Fayt's.

Not even moving his fastest, Albel stepped to his side and caught the boys' plunging hand with his own flesh and blood one then tripped him with a swift kick across his ankles. Before the apprentice's face had time to change from one of muddled confidence to one of unbridled confusion, Albel gave the simplest tweak of his own hand to snap the boys' wrist like a twig, then caught the dagger falling from his hand and held it too his throat which, like the rest of his body, was now on the ground.

Only when the entire show was over did the boy realize what had happened and was able to comprehend the pain he was feeling. He screamed, and Albel closed his eyes and reveled in it.

"Something the matter, dear boy? Oh, it must be your life flashing before your eyes." Albel drawled as if musing to an old friend."I know, it is never as long in your mind as when you actually lived it."

The entire facility had turned its attention to the spectacle taking place mere paces in front of the entrance and some of the apprentice's friends were trying to advance on Albel and his prisoner held at knifepoint. The guards kept them at bay, however, and in that respect they did their job. Casualties at these interviews were unavoidable, especially with pretentious upstarts like this wandering around. Plus they just knew better.

By this time the old Albel would have killed the little punk and been done with it. But the new Albel couldn't bring himself to bring down that blade. Still, he couldn't lose face in front of so many of his subordinates so he did the next best thing. He chopped off the kid's ear.

The bloodcurdling howl resonated off the walls of the building as Albel stood up off of him, scarlet-tinged blade in one hand and a severed ear in the other, looking at it adoringly. With a shrug he dropped both to the ground carelessly and wandered into the crowd, which knew that it needed to resume what it was doing prior or else any one of them could be next. Two nurses rushed to the boy's side and to his credit, he resisted their help up until he fainted.

"Anyone else?" He asked calmly, and upon seeing no one taking him up on that offer, he shrugged and looked over his shoulder at the young prospect. "I'll be keeping my eye on you as well," Albel said under his breath, stepping off and walking towards the center of the room, passing the king's seat and looking up at him with a ever-pleased grin.

"We'll have a long and serious discussion about your behavior later, Albel." The king sighed and slumped in his chair. "And I thought these days had finally come to an end."

Chuckling to himself, Albel crossed through the group ahead of him, which parted to allow him through, unimpeded. He crossed his hands behind his back and marched through the hopefuls, looking up and down each that was strong in body, confident, and didn't lower their gaze when he met theirs. That was the true test and they knew it. Still, it was a difficult objective to look into that madman's eyes.

Continuing his evaluation, Albel stopped in front of one boy he already knew from earlier that day. He looked much different with his father's tarnished armor on and a sword on his hip, but tired as he was Albel wouldn't forget Zeke. He didn't say anything, simply stared the boy down until Zeke finally gave a quiet whimper of defeat and looked away. With a scoff, he proceeded on.

Towards the end of the line now, Albel had for the most part already looked ahead and saw no one else of interest save one individual at the end. A female, he believed, adorned in silver armor. He stopped and stood directly in front of her, raising a curious eyebrow as he peered at her face hidden beneath night-black hair and a gray scarf encircling her lower features.

But that wasn't what gave her away.

It was those daggers, sheathed in twin scabbards and buckled to the small of her back. Albel had always had an eye for fine smithery and the Blades of Ryusen were unmistakable, even holstered as they were. Funny, he wasn't surprised that she had been so damn bold as to attempt to sneak into the castle but that she had done such a poor job at disguising herself.

Albel was feeling better already. The slight grin he had been wearing before broke into a full-on smile. He leaned in close, getting his lips less than an inch from her ear and heaved, his breath parting her hair away. "That's a nice pair of daggers you have there. Don't forget to take care of them."

He said nothing more, nothing that would directly lead her to believe he knew who she was, but enough that the thought would keep her from getting any sleep tonight.

--

Nel watched as Albel walked off and the crowd, still visibly shaking at his presence, closed in again and resumed their chatting. What had just happened was something she couldn't explain. Had she been exposed, recognized by him, or was that really just an admiration of her weaponry? Doubtful, but it was clawing at the back of her mind and she immediately thought of aborting the mission. She had already registered, but one no-show wouldn't be thought much of.

Then again, she hadn't learned anything either.

She couldn't return to her comrades without something to report, and she certainly couldn't face Clair who had been the chiefest of many people who did not think she was physically and mentally able to undertake such a daunting infiltration so soon after her return from 4D space. Nel, of course, lied about her condition, saying that she was 100 and more than capable of the job. The truth involved admitting that her journey with her off-world companions had taxed her to the extreme was admitting weakness and that was not something she could do.

She reconsidered. Albel hadn't exposed her when he could have. If he did, every guard in the castle would have had her adorning the tips of their spears, so maybe he really didn't recognize her. Or, which would be much more along the lines of his personality, he did but felt like prolonging her experience here in every humiliating and torturous way he could.

Or it could be a third option: that he had shown her mercy and wanted her to escape before anyone else recognized her. But this was Albel Nox she was thinking about and mercy was not in his vocabulary.

"Did we part on good terms?" She asked.

"What?"

Nel jumped a little as a man who could be described as nothing short of a giant loomed over her with a look of concern mixed with confusion.

Nel smiled and waved him off. "S-sorry…talking to myself."

The giant grunted and turned back around, resuming whatever conversation he had been having with another person who couldn't even been seen in front of him.

That little confrontation offered her another reminder of the current situation, not one that had no real basis or at least no definitive answer. Regardless, she decided she wouldn't leave. She had to stick it out a bit longer and continue with what she had been sent there for. She had to determine the threat that Airyglyph presented as far as stealing the runological weapon blueprints. Only then could she go home.

Suddenly, all the noise around her slowly tapered off and was silent. King Airyglyph confided with his two present generals and then with Albel when he took his seat on the platform as well. Woltar, who had been standing behind the king for some time, offered no advice, figuring it would have been unwelcomed anyway. The king rose from his seat and stepped down. He turned around to his three generals and nodded. "They are yours now, my friends. Make sure they all earn their keep."

Nel gulped. She didn't think the king could say such harsh words with even harsher undertone. The room was quiet as death until the king strode across the room, followed closely by hisattendants,and flung open the door. He stepped out andthen closed it soundly behind him.

Doubtless anyone outside of the building would have thought war had just been declared.

It reminded Nel of her basic training days in the Secret Legion. Lining up in a row to perform push-ups, group sit-ups, and just for the effect Hammer occasionally walked around and kicked some poor unsuspecting trainee in his teeth, putting him or her out of the race for no real reason at all. And after a solid three hours of this, Nel was more than a little tired, but it didn't come as much of a surprise when Valon stood up and began to recite partners who would do battle.

Valon was a tall and narrow man with a high arched brow and a perpetual sneer on his face. The lapel of his russet Dragon Brigade armor was ringed with white fur, as were the tops of the shoulders. Hammer thought he was brilliant and stepped to the beat of no one's drum but his own. Albel knew he was really a suck up who only got to where he is by bribing and knocking off his competition. The king did as well, but they both decided it would be better to constantly assault him with problems that they didn't think him capable of performing alone. Somehow, he had thus far managed, but the game was not yet over. Albel had many more tricks in store for him. He only hoped his sanity lasted that long.

"Group one! Ramanda and Lorne! Get to the southeast arena!"

The crowd moved for the two prospects, amidst various insults and prodding. Anything to make the competition lose focus.

"Group two! Maria and—"

"Me."

Albel stood up from his seat. Nel's eyes went wide. Maria was the name she used on the registry. Another thing she should have seen coming.

"_So that's why he didn't want the guards to kill me. He wanted to do it himself." _Nel thought and crossed her legs, standing up with much less grace than normal, her face shining with sweat and the coal coloring in her hair was forming large viscous droplets off the ends of her normally ruby locks.

"Maria. That's a pretty name." Albel chuckled and stepped down from the platform, his metal digits tapping on the end of the Crimson Scourge's hilt. "Did that come from your mothers side?"


	4. Chapter Four: Alliance

**Chapter Four**

_Alliance_

Valon, confused about Albel's outburst and his choice to participate in the tournament, shook his head and decided to ignore the outburst entirely.

"Maria and Ze-"

"I said me, fool!" Albel snarled, shooting a glare at Valon that would strip the varnish off of a wooden cabinet. The rookie commander of the Dragon Brigade faltered and cleared his throat, nodding his forced approval over this decision and pointed the quill in his hand to the northwest side of the arena. Albel again shook his head and drew his sword from its sheath, swinging it in a circle that forced the crowd of potentials too either back away or be slain. "Our battle will not be confined to some pathetic 6x9 sandbox. It will occur right here and will go as long as we are both physically able."

"Captain Nox, this is highly out of the sphere of your-"

Albel's movements were untraceable. All Valon knew in that moment was the appearance of the scuffed platform beneath his feet and the cold metal of a blade against the back of his neck.

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Valon!"

Hammer, who lived up too his nickname in every sense of the word, produced a ridiculously oversized mallet from anyone's best guess and took a heavy swing at Albel, who ducked the blow and sliced upward with his tarnished metal claw - apparently using his sword would have either been too cumbersome at that angle or Hammer was just unworthy of it. Regardless, the effect was achieved and the mallet-end of Hammer's weapon was severed from the rest of the pole. Combined with the great swing and the remaining velocity, the disembodied mallet head soared into the audience and rendered one unfortunate soul unconscious, possibly dead.

Albel Nox as he had been recently was gone then, replaced with the blood thirsty and pseudo-psychotic Albel the Wicked. He darted away from Valon's fallen form and performed a wild slash at Hammer, who raised up the wooden pole of his destroyed mallet as if that would be enough to stop the blade of the Crimson Scourge. It wasn't and immediately after Albel further maimed Hammer's weapon he delivered a powerful kick to the man's gut, doubling him over and giving him ample opportunity to deal the killing blow.

Valon, no slouch himself, kicked back to his feet and took a moment to fumble out a pair of razor-sharp claws from his pockets. Wielding them then like a hawk would its talons, Valon let out a battle cry and began a dizzying flurry of slashes, swipes, and martial attacks that even Albel was having a fair amount of difficultly keeping up with it. His own artificial appendage received a few new nicks during this battle as his sword was often ineffective to deflect such close-range strikes.

--

Nel saw this distraction as exactly that and turned to slip out of the crowd unnoticed. Surely no one would detect her when such a intense and thoroughly entertaining fight was going on only a few feet away.

Her chance for a quick escape was ruined then when the huge double doors of the arena swung open. Although the doors were opened by two armored knights, through the door stormed King Airyglyph who immediately commanded subservience into every occupant in the building sans the three warring combatants on the stage.

"EVERYONE OUT! You are too withdraw to your assigned barracks and await further orders!"

No one, especially not Nel, hesitated a moment in clearing out of the room. They all left with the sounds of King Airyglyph berating his three generals, though Nel also received a soft hand on her own as she rounded the corner towards where she knew the king's strategy room laid (she had, after all, been in Castle Airyglyph several times before). The hand belonged to a young man whom she did not know but his friendly demeanor and wide, obtuse grin was certainly nothing to react hostilely too.

"The barracks are this way, Miss Maria. I'll show you!"

'_Thwarted again,' _she thought bitterly, and was pulled down the opposite hall.

"Just between you and me, I'm kinda clad General Albel, General Valon, and General Terry got into that little scuffle-"

'_Little!'_

"-seeing as how we were next in line to duel." He grinned and looked up at her masked face. "No offense but I'm pretty good. I don't think you could have taken me."

Nel smiled under her scarf and shook her head. "I'm sure. And your name was?"

"Zeke! A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Maria."

"You can just call me Ma-"

"I wouldn't dream of it! It's very disrespectful and my father always told me to be respectful towards a lady." His hand still firmly intertwined with Nel's, Zeke pushed open the door that lead outside, having to work a bit harder with the snow falling and some already having piled up in front of the exit.

Nel looked out into the courtyard towards three buildings, which she assumed were the barracks.

"I'm not sure which barracks you're assigned too, Miss Maria, but if you don't know we can go check the registry."

"Two." She murmured, growing more than a bit impatient with this kid.

"Me too!"

'_Yay…'_

"We can look out for each other! It wouldn't be a bad idea, you know, as I'm sure plenty of the other people here will be looking too…ya know, 'get ahead'."

Nel knew that concept all to well. The competition that was involved in becoming a soldier in the Secret Legion was intense to say the least. Backstabbing and subterfuge were commonplace, and considering the occupation they were being fostered in it was encouraged. Nel was scrupulous and kind-hearted by nature but she quickly realized that that mindset would not be suitable for surviving this exercise and overnight became known as one of the worst pranksters the academy had ever known, attracting attention from all the right _and _all the wrong people. Though originally her antics were not meant to harm but to simply distract and dishearten, words both kind and less-than-so were whispered into her ears as she walked by some of the more influential people in the Secret Legion, seeing her as the breath of fresh air they needed. That bit of prodding stepped up her game and in record time with record marks she graduated and became the respected and feared assassin she was today.

When they stepped into the barracks she assumed the living condition were going to be rather poor from the outside appearance of the building. Upon entering she realized it was far worse. The room was huge but consisted of only wall-to-wall stripped racks with no indoor latrine. A single chair was positioned at the front of the room and another identical chair sat perpendicular to it on the other side. Other than this the room was empty, at least furnishings-wise. The room had more than its fair share of idiots running amok, however.

Most of the bunks had already been claimed and it was no surprise that when Nel found one that was unoccupied it was the top bunk - everybody hated the top bunk. Because of the incredibly low number of female enlistees of course it would be a co-ed barracks and it was nothing new to Nel, in fact it seemed the same conclusion had come to Zeke and he was visibly more upset at this prospect than she was.

Speaking of Zeke, he was in the bunk four rows away - also in a top bunk - and trying to spark up a friendly conversation with his bunkmate, a surly and tattooed man who said nothing as Zeke lectured him but looked more than ready to disembowel the little upstart whenever he got tired of his incessant jabbering.

Nel's bunkmate was the massive man whom she met in the arena crowd. So massive was he that his legs did not fit inside the confines of his bunk's frame and hung limply over the edge. Seeing his belongings had been stored in the small chest provided at the foot of the bed, Nel slung her own bag off of her shoulder and began to put her own clothing and equipment away.

As she did this, she instinctively scanned the room vigilant of threats and information, and other than having to occasionally duck under a wild swing from the now slumbering giant's wayward leg, she caught a few curious and beckoning glances from the men in the room. Most prevalent, however, was the only other female in the room, on the other side and quite a bit further down in the building, being harassed by a group of at least seven men surrounding her bunk.

Nel immediately stood up and began a quick and methodical march towards these people, whom she would make sure lived to regret this incident. It seemed, however, that her new friend Zeke had the same thought and was way ahead of her.

"Excuse me!" He shouted, holding up a finger as if to flag down a cart. "But I think you've all have had enough fun on that poor girl's behalf! Leave her alone this insta-irk!"

Not surprisingly, one of these roughnecks had separated from the rest of the group and snatched Zeke by the neck, lifting him up off the ground and just as quickly was forced to drop him when Nel planted the hilt of one Blade of Ryusen into his sternum, audibly shattering the bone and then gave him a lariat to the throat which drove him into the cold floor and into a deep sleep.

The now unconscious man's associates had drawn all manner of weapons and moved to encircle Nel and Zeke (whom was on the ground after being dropped rather unceremoniously); the latter looked positively terrified while Nel, calm as ever, simply spun her twin daggers on the tips of her index fingers and waited for the first move.

That move came from a man with a tongue surgically altered to resemble that of a snake who, with a chuckle, licked a dagger in his hand and took a single intimidating step forward. "Bitch, you've got alotta nerve steppin' into this game. Now maybe if you be a good girl and start takin' those clothes off I might think about not kill-irk!"

"That sounds familiar," Zeke snickered.

The man with the lizard tongue now had a garrote wire around his neck and was slightly hovering off of his flailing feet by a much shorter individual behind him. The other men participating in the panty-raid quickly converged on the unseen target but Nel took point and held them off, taking her own quick glance to see what the trouble was.

The girl the men had been harassing was now fighting back, strangling the lizard man with tears in her eyes though remorselessness in each of her ragged breaths. Her yearning for this mans life was apparent when Nel saw blood trickling from the wire slicing into his flesh. She wanted him dead.

Nel had every intention of talking her into releasing him, although he certainly deserved the punishment he was receiving, but the doors to the #2 barracks clattered open and in walked the determined and thoroughly pissed body of Albel Nox, bearing in his hand not his blade but a single piece of parchment.

"Maria…" Albel stopped and looked incredulously at the last name inscribed on the roster. With a disappointed sigh he continued, "…_Dortray_. Get out here now!"

Albel's sudden intrusion was all the girl needed to release her lethal hold on the lizard man who crumpled to the floor hacking up blood and wheezing painfully. Now that Nel could get a good look at her she was an attractive young woman with short dark blue hair and smooth, supple features; hardly what one would think of as a trained killer.

But Nel didn't have time to lecture her. She simply grabbed her by her forearm and pushed her against Zeke. "Watch her until I get back." She pointed across the room at the slumbering giant under her bunk. "If you need extra help wake him up." He nodded without protest and Nel left the group silently.

Albel stepped out into the snow and watched Nel follow him and shut the door behind her. The two squared off in silence for a moment, Nel inches from his face as Albel was hers, and neither gave any ground. Surprisingly, it wasn't she who first declared peace.

"Calm yourself, recruit. I mean you no harm. I simply want to talk." Albel spread his arms wide as a gesture of innocence and that he was not - at least readily - armed.

Nel's hands had been at her dagger hilts the entire time and his words did nothing to alleviate her paranoia. "What do you want? Why did you call me out today?" '_He might not know yet so I shouldn't be the one who gives it away.'_

"Can we cut the nonsense yet, Nel? You couldn't have seriously thought I wouldn't figure you out, seeing as how you did everything but stroll up in here naked with your name scrawled on your forehead."

Nel nodded and moved her hands away from her weapons up to her scarf, which she pushed down revealing her face, streaked with black from the coal leaking from her hair, giving her a decidedly jester-like appearance. "I was hoping you'd figure it out, Nox. The only other thing I could have done to make it more obvious would _be _to walk here nude."

"Then I'm glad we've come to an understanding about your intelligence, or lack thereof." His insult warranted a minor frown from her, which he reveled in. "What do you want, Nel? I thought I made it clear that I didn't want anything to do with you people after we completed the mission. Or did I need to kill the blonde muscle head to drive that home?"

"You made it clear, but I need something from you and it wasn't like I could just write you a letter."

"So you thought it wiser to sneak into a Airyglyph recruitment draft instead!" He was now back in Nel's face, shouting rather loudly. "Has all that atrocious hair dye leaked into your brain!"

Nel pushed him back and like a bolt of lightning had her blade at Albel's throat. Likewise, his sharp iron digits were at hers. The two wrestled each other standing for a few seconds before Nel brought her knee up into Albel's groin and shoved him against the side of the #2 barracks. "You're going to get me what I want whether you like it or not, Nox! Now are you going to listen and remain out of further pain or do you need another reminder?"

Revealing the sadomasochistic side of Albel the Wicked, he had been laughing the entire time, even when his manhood had received a very painful hit. "Oh, I think I need another reminder, _mistress_."

"You just don't get it-"

"No, I get _it _just fine!" Albel delivered Nel a head butt and reversed their roles, slamming her against the side of the building and once more against her skull. "What I do not get is why you think I should help you? Why do you think I would betray my kingdom you miserable Daughter of Aquaria?"

Nel gasped, her head spinning, and in her pain she could only think of a single word to utter: "Promise."

That was apparently the magic word. Albel released her immediately and backed away, that nagging, obnoxious voice of a former child leader ringing in his ears.

_\\I want you all to promise me something. We may be separated by great distances but we still have a duty to each other. Protect each other, watch out for each other, and we'll never really be apart./_

"SHUT UP FAYT!"

Albel began to slam his clawed hand into the side of the building, straining the old pitted wood more and more with each blow until it simply gave way and his hand plunged through. He ripped it out and turned away, leaving Nel and everyone inside the barracks (and those in the other barracks who had heard his outburst) very confused.

Nel sighed and slid down the wall, her head still spinning and her eyes unfocused. Not long passed before Zeke, the nearly homicidal girl, and the massive man hovered over her, all clearly concerned.

The girl had a lucid, almost vacant expression on her face and stood there tapping her index fingers together timidly. "Uh, m-miss? Are you…a-are you okay?"

Nel nodded and accepted a hand offered by Zeke to help her too her feet. "I'll be fine." She patted Zeke warmly on his shoulder, the closest thing he'd get to appreciation, and looked at the girl and the monstrous man towering behind her. Nel stooped over a bit and smiled at her. "May I ask your name?"

The girl blushed and nodded slowly, still habitually tapping her fingers together. "H-Hina…miss."

Nel took her arm and pushed it into her hand, shaking it firmly. The girl only blushed, saying nothing more. When that introduction was finished, Nel corrected her posture and looked up at the giant, smiling albeit with a bit of apprehensiveness of her own. "And may I ask who you are, sir?"

The monstrous man, whom had so far only glared at the other three and stood with his barrel-thick arms across his barrel-thick chest, suddenly sprang to life with all the subtlety and stoicism of dragon's breath. "Name's Garland! A pleasure to meet you, little lady!" This time it was someone other than her who initiated the handshake, which completely eclipsed her much smaller hand.

"A pleasure too meet you, Garland!" Nel shouted and pried her hand out, silently cursing out much that had hurt.

"Oh, ha! I do apologize. Sometimes I don't know my own strength." He grinned a huge goofy smile and scooped up his three new friends by the shoulders, pulling them against his massive form. "And now that the introductions are complete, whataya all say we muscle some of these idiots out of a corner and get our bunks closer together? We gotta stick together, ya know?"

Nel smiled and used the hand that wasn't being crushed against Garland's hip to scratch her nose, which was no longer covered by her gray scarf. This was a startling revelation to say the least in that she had been so careless, but at the moment she couldn't seem to care. In the all-encompassing grip of Garland, the four newly found friends went back into the barracks and began clearing out some space.

**Author's Note: **I think maybe I'll continue this after all, with a few hidden cameos, fan-service slips, and other unique spices thrown in (three, in particular, are written into this chapter).


	5. Chapter Five: Hate Me

**Chapter Five**

_Hate Me_

Albel Nox was a tormented soul.

His walk back to his sparsely furnished and unkempt room was not a walk at all. Instead, he _crawled _down the endless hallways of Airyglyph Castle's interior, using the wall as a crutch the entire way. His mind was in chaos and never before had he experienced such agony. He'd rather those air dragons burn off his other arm than have the moral obligations as set by his futuristic leader klaxon in his head.

This pain was something he'd only begun feeling recently and it came to him in a dream - a epiphany. That dream he had about killing Nel was so real it left him physically ill and raped him of his sleep that evening. The events that took place only a few minutes ago, when he and Nel again squared off but this time in a very real situation brought that feeling back in spades. He wanted to vomit but something was telling him it wouldn't be enough to ease the sickness. Cutting out his throat and wringing out his sins might be a more appropriate start.

Albel barely made the turn that led down the corridor where his room lay at the very end. A lone duenna - carrying out some task appointed to her by her younger patron - was the only one who had thus far born witness to Albel's condition. She carried in her hands an ivory platter with two cups and a teapot that were batted against the wall with a single slap of Albel's flesh and blood hand. "Out of my way, worm!"

The woman was no stranger to the castle or its dealings and seeing Albel the Wicked in such a mood was cause for alarm. Angry as he was she fell against the wall in stunned terror and watched hazily as he stumbled down the hall, punched open his door and kicked it closed behind him.

With not even a grunt he collapsed into his lumpy bed and fainted, drifting into a state that was not as restful as sleep and not as aware as consciousness; given the circumstances though it was not surprising what the topic of the "dream" was.

Albel looked down from a high tree branch above a small clearing in the center of a forest. There was no sound, not from his breath or from the wildlife in the forest. Complete silence and eerily fitting for the task he meant to carry out.

Minutes or hours past but it didn't matter as both seemed like an eternity before his pray arrived. A tall boy, a head full of messy blue hair and wearing a pair of brown shorts with a t-shirt adorned with a child-like doodle on the back stepped into the clearing and looked around for a moment before letting out a loud sigh and sitting down against the base of the tree Albel was perched on.

Albel grinned wickedly (he could not see it but he could certainly feel it) and began a slide vertically down the tree, using his clawed hand to dig into the bark and control his decent. In his other hand was the intimidating and oddly pre-bloodied blade of the Crimson Scourge, though none of the blood formed drops large enough to fall and warn the boy of his impending doom. Albel relished this moment, as he had felt it a thousand times before and each time it gave him a sensation akin to the strongest of aphrodisiacs with double the mess.

The resulting gore was also something he reveled in, and with all the grief this boy had been causing him he was looking forward to seeing his innards in his hands.

Fayt, who was blissfully unaware of what was about to befall him, did nothing but sit their and hum happily to himself as Albel cackled and pulled his claws from the tree, the sound of which alerted Fayt to his presence but it was far too late by then.

The sword in Albel's hand slid into the boy's soft neck and pinned him to the ground, severing his spine and rendering him paralyzed to do anything but watch in mute horror as Albel loomed over him, a psychotic grin adorning his face.

"You've made me suffer long enough, Fayt. Now I hope you get to think about your mistakes in the afterlife!" Albel's hideous laughter echoed in Fayt's ears as he was blinded by the sun glinting off of his raised claws. Then he saw only black.

Albel planted his hands on his bed and hurled himself back with such force he hit the old wood dresser on the other side of the room, cracking the wall and knocking the drawer out directly above his head, which left a large bleeding welt when it came back down.

Caring little or not realizing the damage his perpetually sharp claws could do, he slammed them into the top of his dresser and dug the razored digits at least an inch into the soft wood. He hoisted himself up and stood in a dazed stupor for a few seconds before the vivid images of his dream came back to mind...which caused him to vomit all over the floor.

"Are those pesky dreams keeping you awake again, captain?"

Without thought Albel dove back to his bed and fished under the mattress for his sword, which was not there but rather laying at the feet of a shadowed man in the corner of his small room, leaning against the wall with his right foot and playing with a switchblade in his left hand. But Albel was never unarmed and he raised up his claws in a defensive stance, keeping his sword-arm behind his back. "You've had a terrible lapse in judgment if you thought you could slay me in my sleep, maggot."

The man chuckled and bit and shook his head, though the shadows of the evening still played heavily enough on him that Albel could not make out his identity. "I am not an assassin, _captain_, I am a mercenary," he said almost sarcastically as each word seemed accompanied with a metallic slap as the switchblade closing against itself, "and I'm not here for you. I'm here as a liaison to my employer who has expressed great interest in a certain potential in your army."

Albel's sickness hadn't subsided just because of this sudden interruption and had to kneel slightly to balance himself on the edge of his bed with his free hand, though his gauntlet was still at the ready. "I'm in no mood to talk with some two-bit sellsword. Get out of my room before I lose my patience with you."

The man was silent for a moment before nodding a few times, disappointingly, then flipped closed his blade and pocketed it. "If that is how you feel then I hope we can part now on good terms, but Panther will not be pleased."

"Panther?" Albel repeated looking up, his hair glistening with sweat and slicked against his face. "That is the nickname given to a thief who has been carrying out heists in Airyglyph for years. You say he is your boss?"

The man nodded and produced from his coat pocket a simple sheet of parchment with the dried image of a panther's paw inked on it. He stepped forward a bit, prompting Albel to reassume his guard, though he only flicked it towards the bed. Albel picked it up and looked at it, his blurry vision having noticeable difficulty focusing on it. "The calling card of the Panther. One is always found at the scene."

"A little known secret about him is that he hasn't done one of those robberies in years. We, and many times I, have been keeping up the myth of 'The Panther' just to keep his name infamous. We're a bit more…'active' these days."

"And what is it that you wanted? And speak quickly, your story began to bore me around 'a little known…'."

The man nodded and fell back into the shadows of the corner. "I want Nel Zelpher."

Albel let out a single laugh. "So do a thousand bitter criminals she has put away! What makes you any different?"

"Because I have a golden opportunity here to get her at her most vulnerable. Only you know who she really is in this guise- façade - she is putting on."

"How the Hell do you - !"

"Because I am always kept informed, Nox!" The man shouted, pushing off of the wall and getting more defensive than his previous passive demeanor had let on. "I also have several men who have infiltrated this draft."

Albel leapt over the bed and was at the man in a instant, characteristic of his impatient and brutal personality. This nameless face was not the same as the average fools Albel normally terrorized and had the pocket knife at his throat in an instant. At the same moment, Albel's claw was at his throat and he was now close enough to place a face to the man who had broken into his living quarters.

"You…S-Sh-"

"I have four soldiers on the inside of the draft at this moment, Nox. All of whom live in the same barracks as Nel. You can choose to either help me take her head or you can resist and I'll have you taken out as well. It is your call but I hope that your current state of unhealthy is not impairing your judgment enough to so rashly push aside my offer."

Albel stared into the face of a man he thought long dead but his decision to the man's offer was instantaneous. He backed off of him and dropped his gauntlet to his side, exposing himself to a clean and defenseless kill. "What would you have me do?"


End file.
